


all the time in the world

by mechanicalUniverses



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Poor Sleeping Habits, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, they are fucking. husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicalUniverses/pseuds/mechanicalUniverses
Summary: For the fifth time that night, Perceptor calls, "Brainstorm, please come to berth.""I've almost got it," comes the predicted response. "Jus' one more test. Last one, I swear.""You said that seven trials ago.""Funny how that works out," mutters Brainstorm.
Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor (Transformers)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	all the time in the world

**Author's Note:**

> i would die for more content of just these two,, pwease

Perceptor suppresses a yawn as he watches Brainstorm's servos fly over the keyboard to their command console. Perceptor had finished his own tasks long ago, and although he's spent many nights alone in berth while Brainstorm continued to work, he refuses to let him stay here again. So he quietly waits from the doorway, watching his partner's as he hunches over the console. He can tell his partner is tired because instead of being a fluttering blur, Perceptor can actually make out the individual digits of Brainstorm's hand with shocking clarity. Other than the rapid-fire _tak-tak-tak_ of the keys, their lab is almost entirely silent.

It's unnatural for quiet and Brainstorm to exist in the same instance of space. Where one exists, the other does not. But his usual muttering and noisy methods of working had ceased long ago, snuffed out by frustration. Now his work is punctuated only by sharper sounding stabs at the keys or huffs of dissatisfaction. Usually, there's something to be said for when Brainstorm's so focused on his work he forgoes his usual ruckus. It's like his intensity is so compelling, it demands every drop of attention from absolutely everything in the room. Perceptor himself is no less affected by this phenomenon, willingly drawn in by the enigma that is Brainstorm. But knowing it's only happening now purely because he's so exhausted somewhat dampens that fierce swell of adoration.

For the fifth time that night, Perceptor calls, "Brainstorm, please come to berth."

"I've almost got it," comes the predicted response. "Jus' one more test. Last one, I swear."

"You said that seven trials ago."

"Funny how that works out," mutters Brainstorm. But he still doesn't move. After a moment, Perceptor sighs and crosses the room to slot himself right beside Brainstorm. One arm loosely wraps itself around Brainstorm's, and the other loops around his middle. Brainstorm stiffens for a moment, then with one long, hissing exvent, sinks against Perceptor.

"I hate being smart," he moans.

"That's a first for you."

"I can't get my stupid processor to shut up about this thing. I need it to work so I can fraggin' recharge, but I keep messing up 'cause I'm tired." He huffs and throws up throws up the arm not being held by Perceptor exasperatedly. "I just don't get it. I was doing great a few hours ago, and then I just—fizzled out. Blanked. Totally blanked. I don't 'fizzle out,' Percy! I don't 'blank!'"

"You do when you overwork your systems for cycles on end," Perceptor chides gently.

"Eh, I've done worse for longer. You shoulda seen me P.T.S."

"P.T.S.?"

"Pre-timecase success. It's a working title. You would've had a conniption."

"That's not better. You understand that's not any better, right?"

Brainstorm shrugs and resumes typing. Perceptor idly examines the complicated equations and diagrams on the screen. Brainstorm's latest project involved a new form of teleportation technology that, hypothetically, would completely rework the field of space-time travel. Only, right now, it's only capable of spitting out distorted and completely unusable drinking cubes in different places in their lab. Hundreds of them fill the disposal bin in the back. A few more spill onto the floor. Perceptor has one on his desk that vaguely resembles a bit of waste left by alloygator labeled "NW-BS-TST238." It holds approximately a single mouthful of energon and is simultaneously one of Perceptor's most useless and most dear possessions.

"You're working yourself beyond efficiency," Perceptor hums, bumping his helm against Brainstorm's. "You can only go for so long before your efforts begin to go against themselves. You need to recharge."

Brainstorm's arms strain slightly towards the console. Perceptor squeezes him a little bit tighter in response. "I can't stop now," he says reluctantly. "I really have something going here and if I—"

"And you'll think of something even better tomorrow," Perceptor says, unwinding his arm from Brainstorm's to instead thread his digits in between his to hold his servo in the same loose grip. "You always try to make things better. You don't settle for enough. That is only a small fraction of what makes you extraordinary." He presses a soft kiss to the side of Brainstorm's helm. "But that doesn't mean you can completely omit recharging as a necessity for your function. Come."

"Maybe that's what I should work on next," Brainstorm says half-jokingly. Perceptor shoots him a flat glare. "Kidding. I couldn't give up coming online beside you anymore."

Perceptor's monocle fogs up a bit with how quickly his faceplates heat. "Well," he says as diligently as he can, "we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Pit, no." Brainstorm finally lifts his servos away from the keyboard. "You're right, though. I'm probably gonna end up deleting everything here tomorrow anyway."

He hits "save" and steps away from the console. Or, he at least tries to. Perceptor suspects Brainstorm somehow forgot someone was holding on to him because he stumbles right over Perceptor's pede and only stays upright because of Perceptor's hand on his waist. "Huh," he mumbles.

"Tired, are we?"

"You can't prove anything."

Perceptor chuckles as he gently begins to lead Brainstorm out of the lab and guides them down the darkened hallway to their shared suite. Now that he's out of the lab, Brainstorm seems completely unable to halt the exhaustion washing over him. He falls silent once again, concentrating on placing one pede in front of the other. Perceptor is still practically carrying him by the time they reach the door to their hab suite.

As he enters the code to their suite, Perceptor asks, "I wasn't aware of any upcoming expos."

"Nah, 's a personal project." Brainstorm furrows his browridge slightly. "I think I kinda hate not having a deadline. Back in our original universe, there was always something that necessess—nessess—" He yawns. "Ugh. Required a schedule. Something to work for. A mission, or some weird new way someone got hurt, or, hell, Whirl getting bored. And now... Yeah. There isn't one now, and that's weird, so I gave myself one. Don't get me wrong," he adds hastily. "I love being here, being with you. Infinite universes? Frag yeah! I just haven't... adjusted."  
  
"I think I understand."

The door opens. Perceptor steps into the room and carefully maneuvers Brainstorm into the berth first. Everything about him screams _fatigue_. His biolights are practically pink with how weak they are; Perceptor is the one to move his drooping wings out of the way when Brainstorm can't even summon the energy to do it himself; his field is feeble and fluttery. Perceptor tsks and moves to plug Brainstorm in, only to frown when he sees the dismaying low numbers on the readout attached to their berth. System failure surely would have been imminent if Brainstorm had spent even one more cycle without recharge.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Worrying you. I don't mean to."

Perceptor smiles as he sits down on the edge of the berth. "I know you don't," he says quietly, stroking Brainstorm's wing with a light touch.

"Good."

Perceptor plugs himself in, then goes to lay down right up against Brainstorm, who sleepily shifts his arm enough to allow Perceptor to nestle in close to his chest. Like most fliers, Brainstorm runs warm, and Perceptor can't resist nudging around their limbs a bit to maximize their contact. Judging by Brainstorm's happy sigh, he doesn't mind the arrangement either.

They share a few long, slow vent cycles together.

"It's incredible, really," Perceptor says.

"What is?"  
  
"That we're... free. From our planet. Our old lives. The war. Everything."  
  
Brainstorm doesn't answer right away. Perceptor wonders if he's finally fallen into recharge. His field is still enough to make him think so. But after a moment, Brainstorm says with a voice fuzzy with sleep, "Never really thought about it."  
  
"We can finally create without fear driving us, or anger, or revenge. We can invent not because of mortal peril, but for our own satisfaction. Your very existence was created for the name of the war. Mine, perhaps less literally so, but most of my function was still spent with the Wreckers or inventing the next biggest weapon, our newest shield, the best way to mobilize ourselves to fight or to run."  
  
"But that was then."  
  
"That was then," Perceptor agrees softly. "This is now. There's no need to run. There's no need to fight. There's a new purpose for us in this universe." He kisses Brainstorm's chest plate, right over his spark, and smiles when he feels Brainstorm's frame rumble happily beneath his lips. "And we have all the time in the world to find it."

**Author's Note:**

> nothing has changed since my last simpatico fic. i still want them to kiss
> 
> oh, p.s.! if you wanna help circulate this fic on tumblr, you can reblog [this](https://scintillating-galaxias.tumblr.com/post/620819955224592384/all-the-time-in-the-world) post! thank you for reading, and having a lovely day! <3


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